Bigger Army Diplomacy

XXIX

        "Mhm, yeah, sure," Spain continuously said, repeating those words over and over again, the the person speaking rapid-fire English at her, words that she did not understand. Honestly, she only knew basic English, not the kind that he was ranting to her in. Picking up on her clear misunderstanding, he stopped. "Do you speak English?"

That phrase she understood. "A little bit. I am from Spain." She muttered. "Oh, Spain!" He exclaimed, launching into other bout of fast English.

He realized his mistake, and his apology came as fast as his English. "Sorry! I don't speak Spanish. I can direct you to someone who does."

"Great, thanks!" She replied, giving a thumbs up. (Did people give thumbs up in the 18th century? Eh, can't find any sources saying they didn't)

The person and Spain's conversation took way too long to even get through simple directions. Spain did understand a little bit of English, but not as much as you think. When Spain finally did get to a person who spoke even a bit of Spanish, she found herself fumbling for her words, not knowing what to say. The other person quickly figured out that Spain really did not know what to say.

"Buenos días! Cómo estás?" (Yo tell me if anything is wrong I ain't fluent in Spanish; translation: Good morning! How are you?)

"Esta bien, gracias! Y tu?" (I'm good, thanks, and you?)

"Más o menos, gracias. Que queries?" (I'm okay, thanks. What do you want?)

Spain had to think about that. What did she want?

YOU SHOULD ASK FOR THE KING OF THE UNITED KINGDOM. A voice in her head yelled. Or it could've been Wales. Well, Wales doesn't use punctuation, so it must've been a voice in her head.

"Yo quiero ir al rey del reino unido," she said after a brief pause. The man's eyes widened. Darkening, he told her two words in English. "He's dead." (I want to go to the king of the United Kingdom)

~~~

Spain realized her mistake quite soon. "¡Lo siento!" She told the man as he was leaving. "¡Me refiero al príncipe del Reino Unido!" (I'm sorry! I mean the prince of the United Kingdom)

When the man turned back, Spain noticed that while he still had that darkness in his eyes, it lightened a bit. "Primero tienes que hacer una cita." (You have to make an appointment first.)

"Soy amiga del Reino Unido! ¡Soy la reina de España!" She cried as a last-ditch effort. (I'm a friend of the United Kingdom! I am Spain!)

"¿De Verdad?" (Really?)

"¡Si!¨ The man sighed in disbelief. (Yes!)

¨Okey.¨ He said, and proceeded to give her directions. (Okay)

I INTERUPT THIS BROADCASTING TO TELL YOU THAT SPAIN SUCKS

Wales, go back to your own time frame.

AND ALSO THAT THE AUTHOR SUCKS

Language, Wales!

AND THAT THEY SHOULD TALK ABOUT ME

I was getting to that! See, look, I'm talking about you right now.

The two cousin nations looked at each other in disbelief, then looked back at the door in which one's brother had stormed out. To some, this would look like a coincidence, perhaps even an orchestrated dance. To anyone who knew the two, however, this was a small symbol of dire distress.

And the dire distress that they were in was thick with urgency.

Northern was the next to leave, muttering about some letters he had to write. Then it was just Wales in the parlor, alone, as always.

Green eyes blindly traveled across the room, setting on the gorgeous framed picture of her mother and father when they were in their prime time. It would be much easier if they were here.

What would they do? Wales asked herself. Her dad would probably rely on brute strength, but with the Franks having the bigger army, she went with what she thought her mom would do.

Firstly, Scotland would probably access the situation. Wales knew that they had a clear disadvantage within their army size. Last time Wales had checked, the army was down to just a couple hundred soldiers, damaged by the last war against the 13 Colonies.

They had no army, they had no reigning monarchy. They had almost nothing.

And that's when it clicked.

They did have something.